Make You Understand
by fischfrau
Summary: Prompt from the AC kink meme: Malik wants Altaïr to know how much exactly he loves him.


**AN: Not too happy with this, but it'll have to do ;P For an anon on the AC kink meme.**

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„Safety and peace, brother."

Malik looked up from his many documents and books, a startled gasp escaping his mouth. He hadn't even heard Altaïr approach and inwardly cursed himself for being so careless. Of course, here in the fortress of Masyaf, in the Grand Master's bureau, there was nothing to be feared, but what if he had been somewhere else, with someone else than Altaïr stalking him?

"Altaïr," he said casually, trying not to look too agitated, "What brings you here?"

A sigh. "You seem to forget that this is actually _my _room now," the master assassin mumbled, and one might have thought that his intention by saying this was to scold his right hand, but Malik was able to hear the invisible smile that accompanied the words.

Ah, Altaïr- he was always so anxious to hide his feelings. And even though there was nothing bad about the hiding, the realization that he did this because of his goddamn guilt still hurt Malik. Latter had already done as much as tell the other one to stop this charade, that he had already forgiven him (in fact, not _him_, but the old Altaïr), and yet this stubborn creature did not understand, or better, did not even _try_ to understand.

It made Malik's blood boil, but despite his anger, he chose to remain calm and collected as he stood to embrace the other one before removing the hood that almost always concealed his features. Altaïr complied with a slight flinch, not looking the former dai into the eyes but instead letting his gaze roam about the paperwork on the desk.

Of course Malik was aware of Altaïr's evasiveness, so he decided to break the awkward silence between them to lighten up the other's mood a bit.

"Well, have you brought the ink I asked you to get me?"

"Yes, I have," was the short reply. Altaïr's hand moved to one of his many pouches at his waist, and when Malik saw this out of the corners of his eyes, his own hand shot out to stop it halfway. The master assassin's sucked in breath made him smirk deviously.

"Good," he drawled out, liking the bewilderment he could read in Altaïr's eyes. Surely he suspected something foul already, as this wasn't really the first time Malik sought closer contact.

His hand made sure that the other one's stayed where it was first, before slowly making its way into the pouch the former dai presumed the ink to be in. Since the pouch was located near Altaïr's butt, it was no wonder the assassin knitted his eyebrows in dismay when he felt the foreign hand intrude the pocket.

Despite it all, however, he remained silent until the pot was pulled all the way out. This was something that Malik could not stand at all—why did the other not simply say that it always bothered him when they got so intimately close?

"_Ghabi_," Malik cursed under his breath, taking a step back and shooting Altaïr an angry look. "Why can't you simply tell me what's wrong? Am I not good-looking enough for you? Is there another one already?" When the master assassin did not react, he spat, "Tell me already, you fool! You're honest with anyone else, but not with me! Why?"

"I already told you," Altaïr finally answered and sat down on the chair which Malik had previously occupied. It seemed that it had taken all of his courage to say this— he had always been a somewhat distant and emotionally cold person, of course, but in Malik's eyes, this was ridiculous. How long had they known each other already? Ever since they had still been children!

"Quit this pointless whining! You know just as well as I do that everything that has ever happened lies far behind now, you shouldn't concern yourself with it anymore!" He took a deep breath. "It seems you won't ever understand it."

Altaïr stayed silent, as usual. Something had to be done, Malik would not stand for this needless guilt and cowardice anymore.

"If you want it the hard way, so be it," he ground out as he strode behind the seated assassin and fumbled for his belt, fingers quickly unwinding the leather girdle. In front of him, Altaïr still did not react, except for the slight quickening of his breath; surely he had to be wondering what his friend was doing, and the fact that he did not simply _ask_

only served to anger the former dai even further.

"I take it you don't care what happens now, then?" The whisper came out seductively, even though Malik hadn't intended for it to be so. Yet, he had to admit, there was something thrilling in having the assassin at his mercy like this. And yes, while Altaïr could still run away or free himself from Malik's tentatively knotted bounds easily, it was also sure that he would not; Malik knew the leader of their order wanted this, he just couldn't admit it. He would have to force the man to enjoy this and make him scream out that he understood what Malik meant when he said that he was already forgiven.

Now, with his hands bound behind the chair-back, breathing shallow, confusion written all over his face, Altaïr was indeed a wondrous sight. Slowly, Malik walked back in front of the other one, fingers tracing twitching shoulders as he did so, the grin on his lips widening.

Then, at last, Altaïr met his gaze, a rebellious glint to his eyes though, and Malik kneeled down on the ground before him, settling between his thighs, never breaking eye contact. Altaïr snorted, baring his teeth.

"So, this is your idea of making me understand?" he asked incredulously, but parted his legs farther nevertheless; Malik chuckled maliciously at that. Obviously, the assassin was bad at oppressing his desires once they had been aroused.

"I hope you're a fast learner," the former dai retorted, his hand already undoing the breeches of Altaïr's robe and underwear, the watchful gaze that was thrown at him making him all hot and bothered. Some seconds later, the growing bulge was freed at last and as Malik gripped the throbbing member, squeezing slightly, it seemed as if Altaïr was having a hard time controlling his wants, hips thrusting up into the hand that was now stroking slowly, up and down; then, again a squeeze and the assassin finally gave a shaky sigh. At that, Malik frowned, head leaning forward to nuzzle the inside of one of the thighs in front of him.

"When was your last time, Altaïr?" he whispered, closing his eyes and inhaling the musky scent of the man he had desired for so long already, all the while continuing the almost torturously slow stroking.

However, Altaïr did not respond immediately; then, after a few seconds, there was only a breathless "Kiss me," and he wriggled slightly in his restraints, wanting to make his need clear as it seemed. Malik was content with the fact that Altaïr's mask was slowly coming undone and he straightened himself up to let their lips touch; it was only some nibbling at first, with Malik teasing the master assassin's mouth, sometimes pecking him, amused at Altaïr's impatience and desperation. Then he let the other one's tongue finally taste more- the slippery appendage exploring his mouth so zealously sent shivers down his spine.

Malik withdrew when the need for oxygen became too much. Breathing heavily, he looked at the ruffled man for a moment, then at the member in his hand; if some simple stroking could make him beg for kisses, then he wondered what would happen if he sucked him…?

Apparently, Altaïr knew what the former dai was about to do as his eyes suddenly widened, head slowly shaking in disbelief. "Don't do this, you really don't have to—"

"_Sukat_! Be still already. Just let yourself go at least _once_! I fear this really is the only way to make you understand…"

And with those words, his lips closed over the tip of the dick while Altaïr let loose a throaty moan, his entire form trembling because of the simple, yet sensual touch; because of Malik's wicked tongue circling the head, because of the shameless teasing he was exposed to.

Altaïr threw back his head and hissed in pleasure, causing Malik to grin around his member. Just a little more, maybe then the stubborn assassin would finally give in and stop feeling so guilty; maybe then he would understand that they were destined for each other and that Altaïr's every single sin was long forgiven already.

He pulled back with a wet pop, a trail of saliva sticking to his chin, and looked up at Altaïr expectantly. "Is this enough? Do you understand now?"

There was an audible swallow, then silence safe for Altaïr's erratic breathing. It was clear that the man was desperately trying to regain his mind and that at the same time, he wanted more of this, more of Malik, so he simply stated "No," in a hoarse whisper, moistening his lips with a sensual lick.

Malik's brows knitted together in thought at that. There was only one more option left…

Standing, he slowly unbuttoned his robes, anticipating the slight tingling in his belly while Altaïr watched, mesmerized, cheeks flushed, his leaking cock standing so proud in expectation. The rustle of fabric when Malik climbed onto he other one's legs was noisy in contrast to the silence that stood between the two.

A grin appeared on Malik's face as they locked eyes for a short moment, and he stroked Altaïr's swollen member a few more times. The assassin gave a strangled moan, glancing to the side, shame apparent on his features.

Slowly, Malik lifted himself up, carefully positioning the heated appendage at his entrance, breathing labored as he did so. It took him a great deal of self-control, but he managed to stay in this position long enough to command the other to look at him, his voice nothing more than a shaky whisper.

And then, as Malik let the head of the cock slip into him at a torturously slow pace, Altaïr watched, his intense gaze burning, consuming, and so many emotions flickered in those hazel eyes—lust, surprise, disgust, disbelief…

A cry left the former dai's lips when he impaled himself on Altaïr, the member almost too much for his puckered and tight ring of muscles, yet he pushed on nevertheless, wanting to feel more of the sweet burn, wanting to fill out the hollow in his soul he had been suffering from so long already.

Among his hisses of pain sounded groans of pleasure, and for a moment, Malik wasn't sure if they were his or Altaïr's, but it didn't matter, because the stubborn and deadly and exciting assassin was finally within him, something he had yearned for so long, and even though every move hurt and stung, he gripped Altaïr's shoulder, straightening himself up; the lips he didn't know he had been biting on were numb, yet he didn't care as he pressed them against the other's mouth, licking it, tongue invading it, and all the while he lifted his ass steadily back up again, enjoying the stinging burn that crept up his spine, feeling and hearing Altaïr moaning against his skin, and suddenly there were teeth at his throat, biting, teasing the flesh…

"_Khara_," Malik cursed, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation, tilting his head to the side to give the master assassin better access to his neck. Only the head of the cock was still inside of him, and with a masochistic smirk, he slammed his hips down, into Altaïr's lap, releasing a moan of depravity, his fingers clawing needily at those strong shoulders.

"Yes, Malik, ahh..." Altaïr groaned, taking in the sight of his enraptured right hand, eyes glossy with want, and Malik knew that the other one was suffering so sweetly, and that realization was finally dawning on him.

"Say it," the former dai rasped out, quickening his pace, piercing the assassin with an imperious stare. To emphasize his point, his hand roughly shook the shoulder it was lying on. "Come on, say it! Say that you are forgiven and that you want me!"

His hips worked up and down furiously, completely driven by instinct and quite frankly, Malik hadn't thought this act to be so intoxicating. His sight was already clouded, his robes clinging to his sweaty skin...

Gritting his teeth, Altaïr's brows furrowed as Malik's hips slammed down again, pleasure and bliss shooting through both their bodies and this time, the assassin's pelvis actually jolted upward, thrusting into Malik oh so deep, hitting a spot the former dai didn't even know existed. They both cried out in unison and for a moment, Malik couldn't do anything else than gape at the man before him in wordless delight.

"I understand now," Altaïr moaned, his hands wriggling in their restraints, and even though Malik shot him a warning look, he pulled them free. Quickly, one of them wrapped around Malik's own weeping prick, eliciting a surprised yelp, while the other one grabbed his friend's hips, intensifying the friction between the two, helping Malik up and down at a even faster pace. "And I want you."

A delicious shiver went down Malik's spine at those huskily spoken words, and he devoted his body and what remained of his sanity to his assassin, pulling up and dropping down harder and faster, the hand around him squeezing, just as his had done some minutes ago, mercilessly driving him to his release...

And with one final thrust, they came—in his frenzy, Malik cried out Altaïr's name over and over again, spilling his seed all over the assassin's unrelenting hand. He arched his back as he felt Altaïr's hot semen splashing all over his tightening channel; yet unlike Malik, the Grand Master remained silent—there was not even a grunt amidst Malik's desperate cries. He simply pressed his forehead against the former dai's heaving chest, breathing in and out deeply.

For a few moments, neither of them knew what to do or what to say. While Malik could only grin, given his triumph over Altaïr's stubbornness, the assassin hugged his friend, no, _lover_, closer, his face still buried in Malik's clothing.

Then, finally, Altaïr spoke.

"Thank you."

Since Malik knew Altaïr was embarrassed by what they had just done, he decided to simply nod and play with the other one's curly hair, instead of press him on the matter any further. He was glad they had finally breached this invisible barrier between them; and to have heard Altaïr say that he wanted him was more than he could ever have asked for.

"There is no need to thank me, _habibi_."


End file.
